Photo prompt frrom Rochelle Wisoff- Fields.
There is a drizzle falling,
Slowly it starts to pool,
The drizzle stops, the pool remains.
Hear the sound of quiet trickles,
Little rivulets of bloods,
The trickle stops, the pool is dry.
There is a stench rising,
Eading not a single space,
Death has arrived.
Not as a wave, nor with a roar
Not as a shout, nor with an echo.
Death has arrived,
Like tiny rivulets of urine passed in a public pool.
Written for the daily prompt rivulets.
Not sure how your day has been or is going at this time.But I pray for you as I pray for me that peace will not elude you. Your hope will not be dashed neither shall your strength to dream again. Good night and God bless.
Little steps pit-a – pat down the floor,
Little hands grip and release, wave and steady.
Smiling lips, stretched in glee,
The prayer on her mind, to reach the gummy jar,
Tippy toes, stretchy fingers, just a little bit more …. almost there. Crash ….
Quicker steps, wavering gait,
Sturdy arms waving goodbye at the gate.
Perceptive gaze engraving every feature in the mind,
Secret wishes from the heart to keep you forever mine.
Hearts enlarged, spirits emboldened, trusting ever so much … still holding strong. Broken ….
Steady gait, running steps,
Open arms braced to hold, willing to let go.
Cautious soul weathering tides with every move,
Re-written dreams, edited visions renewed.
Prayers answered wrapped with a strangling noose… how to escape. Gasp ….
I remember sitting on the bus on my way to work, scared by the choice I had made, excited by the prospects it held. I remember finding solace in these words:
I go to work to earn a living,
a living in my body,
a living in my health,
a living in my mind,
a living in my today,
a living in the future,
a living in my relationships,
a living in my dreams,
a living in my finance.
I am going to work to earn a stand to live the life I hope and hoped for.
While I can not say that this has made my life a smooth ride, it has however, made me slightly less apprehensive. It made me seek out the rainbows! To appreciate everyone who has lent even the most miniscule of help at any point.
God bless!
Mama said, don’t let the boys near.
Papa said, not before the bull is in the shed.
Teacher said, I will disgrace you if I ever find out.
And me, I wondered what all the fuss was about.
∼
There was silence, then there wasn’t.
There was singing, the sonorous humming of creaking springs.
There was silence, then there wasn’t.
There was drumming, the clanging beats of wooden boards.
Then there was silence.
∼
Mama said it has one purpose.
Papa said it has another.
Teacher said both are plausible.
I wondered if they hadn’t missed something.
∼
There was silence, the mind swirled.
Emotions danced a gig, the body rolled in confusion.
There was silence, the body weaved.
Fabrics lay in cords, hearts tied to bedposts.
Then there was silence.
∼
I said, let words be spoken before the time,
And silence the reward of peace abide.
Devoid of mirrors with broken emotions,
or shadows of stringed-on by-standers.
Let words be spoken after the time,
And silence the reward of peace
on the altar of guileless love transcending a moment.
∼
Mama nodded,
Papa reflected,
Teacher said, ‘of this sort I wholly approve’.
I see you,
yes you, with eyes so deep, oceans rise in them.
I see you,
yes you, with tears so silent, dropping pins echo through.
Yes YOU, with a smile so bright, the sun stands in awe.
I see you.
Yes you, having a day, a moment.
I see you,
grappling through the dust for air,
stripping the words for a vowel of hope.
I see you,
Yes you, it’s a moment, a day,
it will pass, and hope will fill your words again.
I see you,
Yes YOU.
I set my love to flight, I gave it wings to fly,
I set my love to flight, it came back battered and bruised
I set my love to flight, I found myself aglow.
Photo by Erik Witsoe via Unsplash
About the title: when we love, well they say it comes back to us.
Written for Sonya’s three line tales week 125.
At the door of death I stand; a tree of ashes
At the door of life I stand; with roots routing for escape
Knocking, demanding, crying for time to standstill; hoping for life anew.
photo by Luis Alfonso Orellana via Unsplash
Written for Sonya’s three line tales week 124.
W
I carry you next to me,
I hold you dear.
I carry you next to me,
I hope you know I care.
I carry you on my back,
I wrap you up tight.
I carry you on my back,
I shield you from preying sights.
I carry you next to me,
I pray for wings of hope.
I carry you next to me,
I will my strength to take us home.
I carry you next to me,
The world around us to explore in safety.
The fabric of my life
a pattern above my head
is nothing short of typical days
a messy crisscross of stiches
hemming together
a dress
a shirt
a …..
Restart again
The fabric of my life
an apparel perfect to form
a weaving of colours
shimmering as the sun
shinning as the moon
hemmed together,
a piece
two pieces
three layers
Restart again….
The fabric of my life
as told by the seamstress
is a beauty
less seen, more felt
yet a while before it is complete.
lifehomeandaway 